must start an offensive. England lets France and Russia
bleed to death before she sheds her own blood." There is much talk of
England's selfishness.

Something is wrong somewhere. Every one seems skeptical about the Duma.

I wish I could read the Russian newspapers.

I feel as though I were watching a fire--a neighbor's house burning
down. I am excited and curious. Suddenly, I wonder how far the flames
are going to spread, and I feel panicstricken. Good-night, dear ones.
You in New England seem so far away from this European fire.

RUTH.

_July 30, 1915._

_Darlingest Mother and Dad:--_

To-day I went to the Jewish detention camp with the wife of the French
Consul here. She called for me in her limousine. As I think of it now,
it was all so strange--the smooth-running car with two men on the box,
and ourselves in immaculate white summer dresses. The heat was intense,
but we were well protected. Through the windows we saw others sweating
and choking in the dust of the hot streets.

"I'm afraid I've brought you here on a very hot morning," said Mme.
C---- apologetically.

In spite of my curiosity I believe I felt a distaste of the detention
camp on such a day. A crowd is always depressing, and doubly so in the
heat. But we stopped at a door cut in a high board fence, and passed by
the sentinel into the enclosure where the Jews were penned in awaiting
the next stage of their journey.

Hundreds of faces turned toward us; hundreds of eyes watched our
approach. There were old men with long, white, patriarchal beards
flowing over their dirty black gowns; there were younger men with peaked
black caps and long black beards; and there were women who had pushed
back their black shawls for air, and who held sore-eyed, whining babies
listlessly on their knees. Bits of old cloth stretched over poles
afforded shade to some. Others tried to get out of the burning sun by
huddling against the walls of the tenements that enclosed the yard on
three sides. The ground was baked hard as iron and rubbed smooth by the
shuffle of numberless feet.

As we approached, the Jews rose and bowed low. Then they settled back
into their former immobility. Some stared at us vacantly; others lowered
their eyelids and rubbed their hands together softly, with a terrible
subservience. If we brushed close to one, he cringed like a dog who
fears a kick. Yellow, parchment-like fa